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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319992">Ham Damage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greasyvampire/pseuds/Greasyvampire'>Greasyvampire</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>My Chemical Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Teacher Gerard Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:15:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,301</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greasyvampire/pseuds/Greasyvampire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is picking up his niece from school when he meets the awkward but charming Mr. Way. Immediately enchanted, he agrees to volunteer for Gerard's after school arts and crafts club, not knowing how entangled their lives would become.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Iero/Gerard Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank fussed with his bangs in the rearview mirror, almost driving up onto the curb in his distracted state. He jerked the wheel, throwing the car back into his lane while he fumbled with his lighter, taking a long drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window. His fingers tapped impatiently against the steering wheel as the Honda in front of him slowed to 35 even though everyone went 45 in 35 zones. He jammed the power button on his radio, searching for a station to distract him. He gave up after less than a minute and just listened to his favorite Black Flag album for the thousandth time. </p><p>	His sister had called him in a panic, slurring through her words as she told him he needed to pick Matilda up from school. Frank’s band had been about to perform at a gig they had snagged; it was a festival and they’d been looking forward to this for at least a solid month. But when Sarah started to sob he knew she was in no shape to drive. So he left his bandmates in the lurch and hauled ass to his junker, speeding to Matilda’s school which was a solid hour away and praying he wouldn't get pulled over. His stomach rolled as he skidded into the parking lot; he loved Matilda but he hated picking her up from school. He always seemed to get roped into some long-winded conversation with some poor kid’s mother or father, and at least ten people would give him weird looks because he was a punk loser who wore eyeliner, fingerless gloves and had tattoos on his neck. He did not look like he belonged anywhere near a school, especially today, with red painted all around his eyes in shadows that made him look even more dead and annoyed than usual. Whatever. He threw the car into park and hoped Matilda wasn’t the last kid to be picked up from school. He dropped his cigarette butt on the pavement, stomping it out with the heel of his shoe. </p><p>He had to ask the front desk which way the first-grade classrooms were, ignoring the carefully controlled, still wide-eyed, expression the secretaries wore as they answered him. He controlled the urge to shout “I know I look like a freak, I was about to play at a festival!” Every time a passerby looked at him for more than two seconds. The halls were for the most part empty of all parents and kids though, and Frank’s stomach clenched again. He decided to run to Matilda’s classroom, really really hoping she hadn’t been waiting too long. </p><p>He tumbled through the door with the number that the office had given him, tripping to a stop and finding the classroom empty except for Matilda and a man he assumed was her teacher. </p><p>The man had unkempt black hair tucked behind his ears and sat folded up uncomfortably in a chair made for first graders. He didn’t really look like a teacher. But Frank had to remind himself that not all teachers wore glasses and sweater vests. </p><p>“Uncle Frankie!” Matilda squealed, shooting him a snaggle-toothed smile and abandoning the glitter covered monstrosity she had been painting to throw herself at Frank. </p><p>“Hey, Matti,” Frank laughed, scooping her into his arms. </p><p>Behind her curly hair, her teacher unfolded himself from his crouched position at the small table, standing awkwardly a few feet away. </p><p>He shifted Matilda to his hip, taking in the scraps of paper, glue, and glitter covering both the table and Matilda’s teacher. Frank immediately felt guilty. He should’ve driven here faster. </p><p>“I’m really sorry,” Frank stammered out. “I would’ve been here sooner but it was really last minute. I was at a festival-”</p><p>“It’s okay!” Matilda’s teacher quickly interrupted his rambling apology. “We had fun. Besides, I usually have an arts and crafts club Mondays and Wednesdays anyway.”</p><p>“Usually?” Frank asked, smacking himself internally, having long-winded conversations with actual adults was something he had been trying to avoid.</p><p>“Oh,” Matilda’s teacher waved his hand dismissively. “Funding got cut, and there weren’t enough volunteers to help me run it.” </p><p>Frank couldn’t believe he felt bad for a grown man because his arts and crafts club had been canceled...but he did. </p><p>“Well, thank you so much for watching Matilda.” </p><p>He flapped his hand dismissively again, a soft smile pulling at his lips as he bent to pick up Matilda’s art project. “Nah, I got to make some cool art with a very cool girl.” He grinned at Matilda as he handed her the mass of glitter-covered paper in his hand. “I probably would’ve just been trying to convince my brother to play D&amp;D with me instead so…” </p><p>A blush heated the teacher’s cheeks as he seemed to realize how dorky that admission was. Frank couldn’t help but find him a little adorable. </p><p>“Why does he need convincing?” Frank couldn’t help it, the question just slipped out. He ignored how Matilda tugged at his shirt, cheek smushed into his shoulder, obviously ready to go, already, Uncle Frankie. </p><p>Mr. Way’s blush deepened as he shrugged. Frank bit his cheek to keep from grinning. “He says whenever I’m Dungeon Master that I make things needlessly difficult and complicated.” He busied himself picking up the scraps of paper off the table, avoiding eye contact as he did so. “I think having a more realistic world setting just makes the game more interesting.”</p><p>Frank couldn’t help the small laugh (giggle) that burst out of his mouth. Matilda’s teacher was a massive nerd. </p><p>“Hey well um, if you ever get more funding for your club, I’d volunteer. I’m not that much of an artist, but I can hold a pair of scissors and I won’t eat the glue.”</p><p>The teacher’s dark head whipped up from his bent position picking up tiny scraps of construction paper, surprise steeped in his features. “Really?” </p><p>“Yeah.” Frank smiled, hiking Matilda up a little on his hip. He glanced at the tired expression on Matilda’s face, grinning at her little glasses. “Well, thanks again.” He waved goodbye to a still surprised looking teacher and Matilda waved as well. </p><p>“Thanks for drawing zombies with me, Mr. Way!” She called over Frank’s shoulder. Zombies? He didn’t know if that was necessarily appropriate material for a first-grader, but it was definitely awesome. He also made a note that the teacher's name was Mr. Way, he wondered what his first name was. They barely made it into the hallway when Frank heard footsteps rushing after them and stopped to see Mr. Way chasing them down with a small ninja turtles backpack clutched in his hand. </p><p>“You forgot your backpack,” he huffed, looking slightly wild-eyed as he thrust Leonardo at them. Frank took it, thanking him again as he slung it over his free shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>___</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s mommy?” Matilda asked, staring out the window of Frank’s junker and watching the grey buildings pass in a blur. </p><p>“She just got real busy with work. I’m sorry, sweetie. But we’re gonna have a lot of fun. You get to sleepover at my place tonight.” He grinned at Matilda, who didn’t seem convinced. </p><p>“Is she sick again?” Matilda asked quietly. Frank’s heart ached and he fixed his eyes on the road, adjusting his sweaty grip on the steering wheel. He never knew what to do when shit like this happened. He didn’t wanna lie to her but no way in hell was he gonna tell her the truth either. He glanced over at her again, she was just staring out the window, but Frank noticed her lift up her glasses to wipe away a tear, her bottom lip sticking out in an almost unnoticeable pout. </p><p>“Hey, it’s not that bad at my place, is it?” Frank tried, knowing it wasn’t the right thing to say, but not knowing what else to say. </p><p>“No,” she whined quietly, head hanging down as she pushed more tears off her cheeks. </p><p>“And I make a mean vegetarian lasagna,” Frank added. “And you can pick out whatever movie you wanna watch, even a scary one.”</p><p>That got Matilda to look up hopefully. “Even a scary one?”</p><p>Frank nodded vigorously, a tentatively excited smile splitting his lips. “I’ll even let you do my makeup.”</p><p>“But you’re already wearing makeup!” And then she was sobbing. </p><p> </p><p>___</p><p> </p><p>Frank finally calmed her down by showing her the power of makeup remover wipes. Hot chocolate and a hug didn’t hurt either. </p><p>Matilda sat in his dinky living room wearing the pair of skeleton pajamas that Frank had got her especially for when she spent the night at his place. He only felt kinda bad that he was totally setting her up to be the local goth. Somebody had to carry on his legacy. </p><p>She flipped through his extensive DVD collection, pausing occasionally to take sips of her hot chocolate. She gasped excitedly all of a sudden, hurrying to the couch to show Frank the DVD she had picked out. He looked between the block lettering spelling out “Halloween” and Matilda’s excited teeth-gnashing grin. He sighed, knowing he’d regret it when she was crawling into his bed at two in the morning because she couldn’t sleep. </p><p>“Okay, if that’s the one you want, go pop it in.” </p><p>Despite Matilda’s protests he kept jumping to cover her eyes. Not because of the violence, but he’d forgotten how much nudity was in this. He also hummed loudly and demanded that Matilda cover her ears during an uncomfortably long sex scene. At least it felt uncomfortably long to him.</p><p>When the end credits finally rolled across the screen, the mostly black TV reflected a regretful Frank and a wide-eyed Matilda. </p><p>“Okay, time for bed.” Frank scooped up Matilda, tossing her over his shoulder as she whined for one more movie. He rolled his eyes. She couldn’t stay up for another movie even if she wanted to, she had been yawning through every scene that didn’t have Michael Myers in it. He dropped her onto the small single that he had eventually gotten for the many nights Matilda spent at his place. She scrabbled under the mismatched spare sheets and quilt Frank had in his linen closet. Matilda carefully took her glasses off, setting them down on the bedside table and looking expectantly at Frank. Despite the many nights she spent at his apartment, they still didn’t really have a nighttime routine down. Hell, half the time Frank forgot to tell her to brush her teeth. </p><p>He patted her tangled curls a bit awkwardly, grimacing inwardly. “Goodnight, Matti. Don’t tell your mama about the movie we watched, that’s our little secret.” He had really forgotten quite how graphic that film was. He bent over to flip off the bedside lamp, the room filling with blue moonlight from the window above the bed. </p><p>“Uncle Frankie,” Matilda yawned, “can you play me a goodnight song?”</p><p>Frank smiled, grabbing his one acoustic guitar from the corner of the room and perching cross-legged on the end of the bed. This was at least one part of their nighttime routine that Frank felt comfortable with. Matilda didn’t always want him to sing her a goodnight song so he didn’t ever offer, but if she asked for it he was happy to comply. </p><p>“Any requests?” Frank strummed a few notes, adjusting the tuning pegs as needed while Matilda thought. </p><p>“Oh! The fornication song! The fornication song!” She chirped. </p><p>“You gotta stop calling it that,” Frank sighed. “That’s… an inappropriate word.” Matilda frowned and Frank nudged her tucked-in legs with his socked foot, smiling to let her know he wasn’t mad. She wanted him to play Californication, it was apparently one of her favorite songs. He had no idea why she was so obsessed with the Red Hot Chili Peppers, but he supposed there were definitely worse bands for a six year old to be engrossed with. </p><p>He strummed the first few melodic chords and Matilda’s grin split her cheeks, little feet tapping to the beat as he sang for her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Every chapter is a pov change!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gerard fidgeted in the padded chair outside the principal’s office, adjusting his tie even though it was already too tight. He loosened it again immediately, bouncing his knee instead and thinking about how he should’ve cut his hair before this meeting. Short hair was more professional, his mother always told him that. But his grandmother always told him to wear it however the fuck he wanted, her words. </p><p>He was aware that he was way too keyed up about a meeting that Mr. Perone had most likely thought about maybe once in the past month, and that was probably just when he glanced at his schedule. But this was important to him, he adjusted his grip on the binder in his lap, filled with information and statistics about how significant after school programs were for youth, especially arts programs. He knew the chances of getting his club back were slim, but he had to try. A lot of the kids really depended on these programs. They gave them a place to be that wasn’t home alone, and a guaranteed snack. And not all kids were cut out for sports, that’s why Gerard knew his club was important. You didn’t have to run or shove anyone or catch anything for his club. You didn’t have to socialize or be picked for teams. You could just sit in a quiet room and make some art and hopefully a few friends. </p><p>And he had more than he did last time, he had a volunteer. Well, maybe. He had someone who had told him he would volunteer but Gerard never really followed up on that offer despite the numerous times Matilda’s Uncle had visited his classroom since then. He’d been meaning to ask Frank if he’d been serious about the offer but he was too terrified of rejection to sack up and just ask. If he didn’t ask then he could plead ignorance when he had to explain to his advisors how his one volunteer had flaked out on him. That was what he told himself anyway.</p><p>It also might’ve been because Frank and his long silky hair and his lip ring made Gerard’s palms all sweaty. </p><p>“Mr. Way?” A pleasant voice called, and Gerard snapped to attention, his knee finally stilling. “Mr. Perone’s ready for you.”</p><p> </p><p>___</p><p> </p><p>Gerard’s hand slipped, accidentally stabbing his desk with a small pair of child’s scissors instead of inserting them into his pencil holder like he’d meant to. He quickly fixed his mistake, slipping the scissors in among his assorted pens and wiping his slippery hand on his jeans. He took a breath, steadying himself as he made his way over to the small man that somehow managed to draw the attention of the entire room, something he did possibly in spite of his petite frame. </p><p>“Frank!” Gerard called with what he hoped was a friendly smile and wave. </p><p>He glanced up at the sound of his name, mouth hanging open and lip ring seemingly shinier than usual. Gerard’s stomach flipped. Matilda was climbing his arms and kicking at his legs like her uncle was a jungle gym, Frank didn’t seem to mind, round hazel eyes focused solely on Gerard. </p><p>“Hi, so, I recently got my after school arts program back, and I know when you offered to volunteer it was probably just an offhand remark but I really need volunteers and I was hoping-” </p><p>“Mondays and Wednesdays right?” </p><p>“What?” </p><p>Frank grinned and Gerard’s heart felt like it was about to topple out of his mouth. “The club, program, whatever, it’s Mondays and Wednesdays right?”</p><p>“Um, yes, but, it’s about twenty kids and you really don’t have-”</p><p>“Hey, I said I’d volunteer.” His grin widened into something that looked suspiciously like a smirk. “Like I said I’m no artist, at least not with a paint brush or glitter. But I can help you keep an eye on a bunch of rascals.” He jerked his hips to the side, barely dodging a kick to the crotch from Matilda as she swung from his arms. </p><p>Gerard was struck silent, which did not happen often to him. Mikey would testify that really it never happened. He just really did not expect Frank to be so… well, eager to basically help him babysit two days a week. He probably had a bajillion better things to do. Cool things. He had no idea what those cool things were but his extensive knowledge of 80’s movies told him that it probably involved beer and driving around in a car without a roof. </p><p>“So does it start next week?” </p><p>“Um, yes.” Gerard snapped out of his daze to give Frank the details and tell him how to register with the office, and that they’d have to do a background check. He nodded along, occasionally smiling like he found something amusing. </p><p>He tucked his greasy hair behind his ears as he finished his rambling. “So, really that’s it. Thank you, really, if I didn’t have at least one volunteer they’d shut me down again. And I know it’s just a little arts and crafts club but it really does make a difference.” </p><p>Frank just smiled. </p><p> </p><p>___</p><p> </p><p>“So Punkle’s gonna be volunteering for your after school club?” Mikey asked, the slight eyebrow raise practically a snicker for him. </p><p>“Stop calling him that,” Gerard muttered, feeling his cheeks heat. “And stop avoiding, make your choice.” </p><p>“What? Punkle’s perfect.” He shot a look at Ray, who, after a moment of thought nodded in agreement.</p><p>“It is kind of a perfect nickname, I mean he’s a punk uncle, Gerard.” </p><p>“We shouldn’t even have a nickname for him. I’ve spoken to him maybe three times, for god sake he calls me Mr. Way!” Gerard exclaimed, trying to explain that the embarrassing one-sided attraction he felt to one of his student’s guardians was not a thing and he wasn’t going to let it turn into one.</p><p>“Yeah, but who just volunteers to help out with an after school club?” Ray protested. “Unlike you, most people don’t like being surrounded by two foot goblins who are always sticky.”</p><p>Mikey raised an eyebrow at Gerard to emphasize Ray’s point and Gerard rolled his eyes. He flopped back in his chair, since apparently both Ray and Mikey had abandoned the game in favor of interrogating him. </p><p>“Guardians of the two foot goblins generally don’t mind being around them too much. He loves his niece, of course he volunteered.” </p><p>Ray and Mikey both shared a look and Gerard fought the urge to storm off to his room and ignore them both for the rest of the night. They just didn’t get it. Picking up people was easy for them, dating was ordinary and relationships weren’t a complete oddity. It wasn’t like that for Gerard. People didn’t like him like that. At least not for more than a night. </p><p>Ray was charming and masculine, he could talk to people easily and when he looked at you you knew you were the sole focus of his attention. Mikey was gorgeous in a completely unique way, and when he cracked one of his rare smiles, anyone caught in the blinding glow was a goner. Gerard was weird, and not in a cute quirky way either. He was pale and sweaty, with freaky little teeth and a strange giggle. He wasn’t manly or charming like Ray, nor was he in any way mysterious or beautiful like Mikey. He was just… weird. </p><p>And when Mikey and Ray teased him about Frank like it was something that could ever be mutual, it hurt a little. Because things just didn’t work that way for Gerard. Chubby teachers with greasy hair didn’t make the hearts of pretty punk boys flutter.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm still in the process of writing this fic and I'm looking for someone who might want to help me edit/ come up with ideas. Let me know if you're interested at all!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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